Our beautiful Lindy, age 35, passed away peacefully surrounded by her family, September 14, 2012. Thank you for praying for her and our family during this incredibly difficult time. We celebrate Lindy’s homecoming and victory over her cancer battle, but we hurt so much.

A funeral service to honor Lindys faith and life will be held at 6:30 pm, Tuesday, September 18, 2012, at Haven Christian Reformed Church, 541 Alice Street, Zeeland. The Rev. Art Van Wolde and Rev. Scott Van Oostendorp will officiate. Visitation will be 12:00-2:00 and 6:00-8:00 pm, Monday, September 17, 2012 at the Yntema Funeral home, 251 S. State Street, Zeeland. Burial will be in Zeeland Cemetery.

Memorials may be made to the Ver Beek Children Education Fund (may be made at any Macatawa Bank).

In the last few weeks we’ve seen a sharp decline in Lindy’s health.She’s been so fighting for so long, that I believe her body has just had enough.I like to think of her as winning the battle against her cancer since she’ll be free of it soon.Lindy’s Hospice nurse told us she thought she has about 4 weeks left based on what she’s seeing.

At the end of August, we were able to spend some time as a family at a beautiful cottage at Big Star (courtesy of Mike and Marci Baumann).I was able to speed Lindy around the lake on a Seadoo (thank you Jon and Denise Brown and Jodee and Eric DeWitt for the use of the Seadoos).We had fires and just watched the water together.The kids played in the sand and we pretended we were normal.

We are so appreciative of all the meals, gift cards, letters and prayers; so many of you have spent time and energy to help us. Those that take care of the laundry, the lawn, groceries; we could not do it without you.Everyone has been so kind to us.Thank you to Hospice of Holland for keeping Lindy comfortable during her final weeks.

Weve been crying a lot lately and sometimes the pain feels unbearable, but we are not without Hope.Our Hope is in Jesus Christ who will bring us all together again one day.

If you think cancer sucks, and want to join The Laps for Lindy Team (Susan G Komen Run/Walk on 9/22/2012), please click this link.

Since my last post I had another blood transfusion (last Friday) and thoracentesis (this past Monday).

I said to Dusty that ever since I went to the ER and spent a week in Spectrum a few months ago that things with my cancer have changed. For the worse. Yes the chemo is shrinking the spots we can see, but it’s clearly not helping with the fluid. The doctor who performed the procedure said I would probably have this every three to four weeks! Ouch! Having the fluid drained hurts.

Last Wednesday we met with Dr. VanderWoude. She thought it was going to be a routine visit until I dropped this question on her. “What’s my prognosis?” She sat down and explained to me and Dusty that I’m at the point where chemo, any chemo, is not going to give me more time. She said I can keep taking the chemo if it makes me feel like I’m “fighting”, but she said that if I choose to stop treatment it’s not giving up. I would be opting for a better quality of life. Chemo made me miserable. It was no way to live. Most of my time was spent sleeping or in bed. We left her office with a big decision to make.

After an afternoon of ups and downs, prayers, thoughts, and questions, Dusty and I decided to stop the chemo. I’m done with the misery. Dr. VanderWoude estimates I have 6 months left (give or take).

We are now working with Hospice. I will meet my nurse tomorrow. Her name is Jane.

Please pray for our family as we work through this new phase of life and guide our children through it. Pray for the kids. Our family. Our parents. Our friends.

We’ve been blessed by so many. I will update my blog whenever anything exciting happens. I promise.

Thank you to everyone for bringing us meals, the gifts cards, and donations.

We will continue to have all communication go through Dani.

Please do not stop by unannounced. We just can’t deal with that right now.

We had the privilege of meeting Ellen and Jack for dinner a while ago. Ellen and I had/have the same type of breast cancer. The beast known as Triple Negative. She was diagnosed seven months before me. She and Jack have two small kids. She won’t be forgotten.

In the words of Jack on 7/20/12:

A little before noon today Ellen crossed the finish line. She won the race and is in heaven right now receiving her prize. Well done good and faithful servant! She was a wonderful wife, mother, daughter, sister sister in-law and friend. She has taught us all so much about life, death and grace. She will be greatly missed.
I’ll post the arrangements when they are set. Thank you all for your prayers and encouragement.

My Thoracentesis last week went well. It wasn’t a fun procedure, but I’ve had worse. I would say having a halo screwed into my skull is worse than having a needle to numb and catheter put into my back for 15 minutes. They drained 900 ml from my right pleura. Afterwards felt a tad sore, but mostly better and able to breathe. Everyone at Spectrum was great.

I had my labs drawn this week and found out my white blood cell count is too low at 0.9. This means I should avoid large crowds, touching people, wash or sanitize my hands as much as possible and basically avoid contact with anything or anybody. Does anyone have a bubble I can live in until my count rises? My hemoglobin was at 9.4 or 9.6 (can’t remember). With my red and white cells working against me, I am VERY tired and could sleep all day. Yesterday I practically did. I have to pick and choose how I use my energy. I don’t like living this way.

Thank God for Dusty. He takes the kids to the pool nearly every night. If he needs to run an errand, they all go along with him. One night I was putting Max to bed and I said “You have a really great dad”. He said “Yeah he takes us places with him. I love him”. So sweet.

Next week is chemo. Please pray with me that my WBC and Hemoglobin are at a safe level so I can receive chemo. That my fluid does not accumulate. That my pain will lessen. For my family. For our support system – we would be lost without them.

Thank God for doctors, family, friends, insurance, jobs, and things that make you smile.

My blood transfusion I had last Friday gave me a boost. I went from 7.6 to 9.0. Still low, but I’ll take it. The bottom of normal is 12. All in all, my energy has improved slightly. I thank God for that. The color in my face returned a bit. I don’t look as creepy as I used to.

Wednesday I had another round of chemo. It went fine.

Today I woke up looking like I was punched in the nose. No bruising, just a puffy nose bridge and eyes. I have no idea what that’s from, but I’m too tired to care.

Later today, Dusty and Brooklyn are taking me to Lemmen-Holton Cancer Pavilion to have a Thoracentesis. This is to drain the fluid from the space between my lungs and my chest wall. I’ve been told they do this “all the time” and “they’re really good at it”, but I’m still nervous. Any prayers you could provide today around 12 noon or 1 o’clock would be greatly appreciated. Please pray my lungs and/or no other major organs are accidentally punctured.

After waiting three hours at the hospital for my blood transfusion yesterday I was sent home. Without a transfusion. I have antibodies in my blood. You may be asking “what” “why” “where did those come from” “never heard of it”.

After I gave birth to Max and Samantha I was anemic and had a blood transfusion. I remember towards the end of the second pint feeling “not right”. Me being me decided not to make a big deal of it and brush it off. Apparently that feeling of “not right” was my body having a reaction to the transfusion. I was building antibodies against the donor’s blood. OF COURSE I WAS! WHY WOULDN’T I BE!

Yesterday my nurse said I’m “special”. I’m going to take that as a positive and go with it. From here on out, whenever I need a transfusion I have to go in for labs, go home and wait for the hospital to call me.

Meanwhile, my special blood is driven to a place in Lansing where very smart people try to match it with a donors blood. I imagine once they think they have a match, my special blood and it’s new friend go through rigorous tests and exercises and questioning. If they are considered a true match, someone is called and they come with their Prius (again, just imaging) and drive my special blood in a cooler on an ice back to Zeeland where they give my special blood special treatment until my special self arrives for it.

I’m writing this on my kindle fire so once again bear with me. I’m going to have spelling and grammatical errors.Thank you for your prayers since my last post. We met with Dr. Schott at u of m on Tuesday. The Ct scan I had last week hasn’t been read by a radiologist yet. Dr. Schott could see that the chemo is working. The spots in my lungs are shrinking! Praise God for hearing prayers.Dr. Schott could also see that I have more fluid in my lungs compared to a few weeks ago. This explains my pain and breathing difficulties.My hemoglobin also dropped to 7.6. This brings me back to the spelling and grammatical errors. I’m sitting in the hospital waiting to get a blood transfusion.The next step will be to decide if we are going to tap my lung to drain the fluid. I’m so glad I have doctors I can trust with those decisions.I’m tired. Of everything. In every way. Sorry I have no light hearted humor today. I’m just too tired. So tired!

When you go to a medical facility, hospital, medical office, etc., you will be asked “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is your…” I hate that question.

Last week I had a routine CT scan of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis. Tomorrow Dusty and I will go to U of M and meet with Dr. Schott to get the results. Please pray the chemo is working and doing what it’s supposed to do.

I haven’t been feeling very well lately. Over the last few days, I’ve had more pain in my chest making it harder to breathe. Which means more pain meds, which means more sleep. I’m more nauseous and my hemoglobin is at a 9. Nine is the number that sits on the fence. If I get below nine I need a transfusion. If I stay above nine, I can avoid one. I feel terrible for Dusty when this happens because this puts more weight on him to bear.

Please pray for:

Our kids.

Thanks to Aunt Jana and Jill who are watching the twins and Jen who is watching Brooklyn tomorrow.

Thankfully the last two weeks have been “non-eventful”. No hospitalizations. No fainting. No Emergency Rooms. Just chemo and its backdoor companions – nausea, headaches, muscle/joint pain, skin peeling off my finger tips, exhaustion. The good news is that I haven’t lost my hair. It’s thinning, but no major loss.

The hardest thing for me is that I can’t drive. Nowhere. Not to shop. Not to the gas station. Not down the street. It’s because of the pain pills I’m on. A necessary evil I suppose.

I can now empathize with the Greatest Generation and a decade or two younger. People telling them it’s not safe to drive anymore. Keys taken away; independence gone. I’m thankful I have Brooklyn to keep me company during the day and the rest of my family at night.

Thank you to those who have brought us meals. They are delicious and appreciated. We love the casseroles, but its summer and Dusty LOVES to grill. Someone recently brought us marinated meat with all the fixin’s. It was so good. Dusty didn’t mind for one second that he had to fire up the grill. I know beggars can’t be choosers so we will gladly take whatever meal you bring us.

Thank you for all the ways you’ve reached out to us. Please contact Dani with questions, comments or concerns: Dani Keegstra

Prayer Requests:

Lisa VanderZwaag – She’s a year older than me and has been battling BC for a bit longer than I have. It has spread throughout her bones. She is flying to Mayo today so they can inject…YES I SAID INJECT…radiation into her body. They had to get the radiation from a nuclear power plant. So PLEASE a BIG prayer for her, Robb (her husband) and their three girls. She doesn’t keep a blog. She is the most God loving and kindest girls you could meet. Keep hanging on Lisa! Lisa is the girl standing next to me and Lynette.

My family. Cancer, chemo and it’s back door friends are hard to deal with day in and day out. There are days where they will try to suck you in, chew you up to spit you back out and that is hard to fight too.

Last week was a difficult week. After I lost consciousness on Monday, I came home Monday evening. I was still a little shaky and didn’t feel completely right, but after a 10 day stay at Spectrum I was happy I didn’t have to stay in the hospital. If you want to know why I lost consciousness, read on. If you don’t, skip to the next paragraph.

I have always had low blood pressure. Before cancer, before kids, since I can remember I’ve had low blood pressure. When I was in Spectrum for 10 days, the nurse would come in my room to take my vitals and dispense my medicine. After taking my vitals, they would always comment on how low my BP was and ask me if that was normal to which I would say yes. They would say “then I’m not giving you this drug”. It turns out “this drug” was Propranolol and it lowers your BP. Day after day, nurse after nurse, this drug was held back because of my low BP. However, this was not properly communicated so when they sent me home Sunday afternoon, with a list of discharge instructions and prescriptions Propranolol was on the list. Like a good patient, I took the medication Sunday night and again Monday morning. Monday afternoon I was feeling so strange that I laid down to take a nap. I woke up to my muscles being very tense and I knew immediately something was wrong. Thankfully Dusty was home. He came inside. Tried walking me to the couch and that’s all I remember. I woke up on the floor. He was on the phone with 911. I spent a few hours in Holland Hospital’s ED where Dr. Loos figured out that it was indeed the Propranolol I should not be taking. Thank you to EVERYONE in Holland Hospital’s ED.

Tuesday was spent resting.

Wednesday I had my second round of chemo.

Thursday was spent resting.

Friday I woke up at 4 a.m. in a good amount of pain and a hard time breathing. I got up, took a Vicodin and tried to go back to sleep. Vicodin did nothing for the pain. Dusty went to work. Jana picked up the kids and took them to her house and as the morning went on, it quickly got worse and I noticed the only way to breathe well was to lay down on my side. I called Dr. VanderWoude’s office, and was eventually advised to go to the ER. My parents, who were already at the house with me, drove me to the ER. Sitting in a reclined position in the minivan was hard to breathe. We pulled up to the ER entrance. My dad grabbed a wheel chair, I got in it and the more I sat upright, the shorter and shorter breaths I took. I eventually felt like I was going to faint. Needless to say, when I told them I can breathe better when I lay down. They took me back to a room, put me on a bed and laid me flat. Within a few minutes I was able to breathe better and come back, so to speak.

It was frustrating because my oxygen looked good, BP was good, heart rate was good, labs looked good, EKG was good, X-ray was good, but I knew something was wrong. It turns out the CT Scan showed I’m collecting fluid in my right pleura or lung area. It also showed the pericardium is inflamed. I now of Pericarditis with Pleural Effusion. Pericarditis, as Dr. Sak explained has a respiratory element to it. When the lining is inflamed, it feels like sandpaper rubbing the lining of my lungs. That’s why I couldn’t take deep breaths and was breathing so shallow.

So the window they put in at Spectrum is working. I, because of the cancer and inflamed pericardium, am producing too much fluid that it is dumping out into my lung causing an effusion in my pleura.

I was admitted to Holland Hospital Friday morning and was kept for two nights while they ran an anti inflammatory drip, kept my pain under control so I could breathe and debated amongst themselves whether to stick a needle in my pleura and aspirate the fluid.

Sunday morning I had another x-ray and Dr. Sak (who is a gem of a doctor), determined that due to the anti inflammatory drip, and comparing the most recent x-ray to the CT scan my fluid had already decreased. There was also an argument that the fluid was sitting so low in the lung that they ran the risk for puncturing my liver. Well, NO THANK YOU. I have had enough for a few weeks. Where should I sign to get my belongings back?

My life right now is pain pills, anti inflammatories, chemo, lots of rest and so much confusion from what has happened over the last few weeks. Overwhelmed is an understatement.

My husband should wear a Superman cape. I honestly don’t know how he did it, is doing it and will do it going forward. Herman Miller has been so kind and compassionate. We are so thankful for that. A big hug to Dusty’s boss Bryan, Sharon and the rest of his team for being so supportive.

Not to sound too cliche, but this has been an emotional roller-coaster. I could not have done this without my husband, parents, Jill, Dani and Jen.

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